


at the end of the world

by 0shadow_panther0



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Epilogue, F/M, Fluff, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:56:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28995600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0shadow_panther0/pseuds/0shadow_panther0
Summary: When they were both fifteen, too young for war but not too young for the horrors of human cruelty, Lysithea saw him in the monastery. It was brief, barely more than a passing glance, but the sight of a boy, dark hair and amber eyes and warm brown skin, lingered in her mind.They met again after five years of war, and she noticed, with no small amount of irritation, that he’d grown taller than her in the interim.
Relationships: Cyril/Lysithea von Ordelia
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	at the end of the world

**Author's Note:**

> an old piece that i wrote for zine apps, based on "the world" tarot card.

When they were both fifteen, too young for war but not too young for the horrors of human cruelty, Lysithea saw him in the monastery. It was brief, barely more than a passing glance, but the sight of a boy, dark hair and amber eyes and warm brown skin, lingered in her mind.

She learned that the boy’s name was Cyril—he was younger than her by just a hair (which made swell with satisfaction that she wasn’t the youngest person in the monastery) and an orphan (which was less satisfying).

She didn’t see much more of him until the professor invited him to join the Golden Deer—informally, of course, since Cyril wasn’t a student—and then she saw him everywhere, constantly scrambling across the monastery performing all manner of chores. Perhaps it was just that she knew him that she noticed him—there were dozens of people constantly going about the business across the grounds, and Lysithea rarely paid any of them any sort of attention—but she noticed him all the same.

And, somehow, circumstances had ended up that the two of them were in her room, crammed behind her desk that was most certainly only made to accommodate one, close enough that their shoulders brushed and she could feel the heat radiating off of him in waves, as she went over the alphabet with him, using one of his old grocery lists as a reference.

“To-ma-to,” he sounded out slowly, quill scratching across the parchment in uneven strokes. “Ca-rrot—”

“‘Carrot’ has two r’s,” she corrected, and he frowned, scratching out the word to rewrite it.

She studied his face in the resulting quiet. By lantern-light, his eyes shone honey-gold, bright and alert. There was a scar just above his brow, a ragged, pale line against his skin.

She wondered how he got it. Maybe there was some solidarity to be found with this boy—two people ( _children_ , her mind inserted spitefully) working too hard to make up for the pain they’d suffered through.

“Is something wrong?”

Lysithea jolted. Cyril was looking up at her expectantly, head cocked.

She blinked.

“You were distracted,” he continued. “Did you forget something…?”

“I didn’t,” she replied, but the words came out a little sharper than she meant it to, and she winced.

“Okay,” he said, easy and unperturbed. “Then can you tell me how to pronounce this?” He points to ‘quinoa,’ scrawled by an unpracticed hand.

She stifled a snort of laughter. “You’re going to hate this one,” she said.

* * *

They met again after five years of war, and she noticed, with no small amount of irritation, that he’d grown taller than her in the interim.

* * *

“How are you doing?” Cyril asked. He held out his hand, and Lysithea grabbed it, squeaking as he hoisted her over the craggy edge of a boulder.

“Fine,” she panted once both feet were back on solid ground. “A little tired.”

“We can take a break,” he suggested. He sat down before she could protest, peering up at her expectantly.

She almost pouted. “I’m not a child,” she said, eyes narrowing.

“But you _are_ tired,” he replied. He patted the ground next to him. “We can rest for awhile. The peak isn’t going anywhere.”

Lysithea glanced up, the mountain towering above them like a monolith. She could see Cyril’s wyvern circling the clouds, its silhouette stark against the vivid blue of the sky.

“...Fine,” she said, plopping down next to him.

Cyril smiled softly as he propped his chin in his palm. “The view is nice, isn’t it?” He stared out at the range spreading out beneath them, the blue-tinted silver of stone and the rich greens of the pines rolling into the horizon.

“It is,” she said. “I never… I never got to see anything like this in Ordelia territory.” She let out a puff of air. “Never went mountain climbing or anything like that, either. This is the first time I’ve been so far from home.”

“You were a noble,” he said simply. “You had different responsibilities.”

She huffed. “Maybe. Didn’t mean I should have just been holed up like I was.”

He tilted his head, observing her quietly. She knew that he recognized the things she left unsaid.

“Then it’s good that you’re coming with me,” he said. “Around Fodlan, like this.”

Lysithea ducked her head. “It is.”

She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, eyes flickering back up with a shaky breath. The peak still seemed so distant, despite the hours of effort from her trembling legs, and she restrained a sigh.

Cyril followed her gaze. “It’ll be a challenge,” he said, “getting up there. Especially since you’re not very strong.”

She scowled.

He glanced back at her, mouth tilted in a tiny grin. “Like a princess. Remember?”

“I can do it,” she said, with all the dignity that she could muster, sitting on the ground and sweating.

He smiled, then, amber eyes bright in the warm light of the sun. “I believe you.”

He stood suddenly, dusting off the back of his trousers. “Let’s get moving, then. We have a ways to go.” He offered a hand to her.

She looked up at him. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s go.”

She took his hand, and when they took their next steps, she didn’t let go.


End file.
